Page 20 of Loving at 40

“Perfect,” I lie. His dark eyes gleam a bit. A slow curve curls his lips, and I recall once again how he almost kissed me this morning. I’d been dreaming of Ryan, who morphed into Archer, and then woke in his arms, clutching at his tee. Those dark orbs stared back at me. Those pouty lips tempted me.

“Okay if I head back to the beach?” Archer asks, interrupting thoughts I shouldn’t be having of how much I wanted that connection with him. But he’s my best friend’s older brother and a man with a habit of disappearing, and I don’t need a fling at this stage of my life. I’m no longer the reckless, free spirit the guys teased me about earlier with that story about Richard Ball.

“You do you.” Sarcasm takes over for some reason. Archer doesn’t need my permission to go back to his family, and I don’t need him to stay here with mine.

“Huh.” His lips purse, and he lowers his fists. Then he glances at Talia, tipping up his chin at her. “Be good for your mom, princess.”

Talia doesn’t respond. She doesn’t know what to think of Archer any more than I do. One minute, she’s fine to climb all over him in the water, and the next, my five-year-old is a closed door toward this man.

Archer leaves without another word, and I start the movie for Talia, keeping the volume low. I’ve even shut the blinds, washing the room in dim light. I hate to block out a perfectly good day, but the headache is suddenly raging. Snuggling myself onto the other couch, I curl on my side, back pressing into the cushions, and cover my eyes with one hand, squeezing my temples.

What feels like only minutes later, Archer returns, and the couch depresses near my waist.

“Babe,” he softly begins. I don’t know why he keeps calling me that name either. “You okay?”

“Headache,” I mutter, not wanting to talk.

“Did you take something?”

I hadn’t actually, too preoccupied with setting up Talia. I shake my head, and the couch shifts when Archer stands.

He returns within seconds. “Here.”

Peeling my eyes open, I slowly sit up, feeling groggy, and take a pill he offers me. Next, he hands me a glass of water.

“Drink all of it.”

If I do, I’ll need to pee, but his expression warns me he’ll hold it to my mouth and pour it down my throat if I don’t. He watches my throat roll as I guzzle the water, emptying the glass. When I finish, I collapse back on my side and cover my eyes with my hand again.

I hear the soft clink of the water glass being set on the table before Archer returns to the sliver of space on the couch near my waist. His arm slips over my hip, and his hand strokes up my spine with a soothing pressure along my vertebrae. His thick fingers work their way up to my neck and squeeze tenderly at the nape. With my eyes closed, I relax under the gentle massage. His hand moves, and the pad of his thumb slowly rubs circles over my temple.

I hum.

“Like that, ’Locks?” His voice drops, reminding me of the sound in my dreams, the one demanding I give in to him. My body is in conflict as my head throbs, and another area matches the beat in an opposing rhythm. For some reason, Ryan comes to mind and how he tried to make my headaches go away, sometimes teasing that sex would be the cure. He didn’t allow the old “I have a headache” excuse. An orgasm healed everything, according to him. Softly, I smile at the memory while a tear slips free.

“Babe,” Archer whispers, but I shake my head, hastily swiping at the drop caught along my nose. “I’m gonna move you to the bed. You need some sleep.”

My eyes flip open, and I tip my head to glance at Talia on the other couch. “No, I’m good here.”

“Not up for discussion.”

“Archer, I can’t—” He moves so fast and has me cradled to his chest even faster. I’m not a small woman, but he makes me feel light as a feather. Still, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest against the sunshine heat of him.

“Talia, I’m putting your mom to bed, and then I’ll be back to watch the movie with you.”

“You don’t need to do this,” I argue, thinking he’s taking me to the girls’ room, but he detours to his.

“Archer,” I groan.

“You’re not sleeping with your child. My bed is bigger, and I can darken the room even better in there.”

“This is not necessary,” I whisper, grinding my teeth. What is he thinking? And what will Talia think? Before I can finish my thoughts, I’m laid on his bed, and the covers pulled free. I sit up, ready to remove myself even as my forehead furrows with the pain.

“I’m not opposed to tying you to the bed.” His deep sandpaper voice threatens me, and I still. There is no reason that should sound hot. I should be bothered by the comment and not in a good way, but holy heat, my underwear might need a rescue as he levels those eyes on me and his warning lingers. “If you need that.”

If I need that? Just this morning, he was telling me what he thought I needed.

I’d start by kissing you.